Fuzzy Lines

The last week has been one lone wedding preparation blur. Between the chaos & constant changing of the schedule I’m trying to eat at least once a day & a week after my plane landed am still looking for a coffee pot.

Today was spent in a salon, stitching circles together for the alter piece while the stylist decided how to do Kat’s hair for her wedding. He finished, she asked for my opinion, I gave suggestions based off of previous conversations, he altered the style, I went back to stitching. Glancing up to answer a question I caught a look in her eye & time froze for just a moment. A wave of something washed over her face, expectancy, maybe trembling, an excitement I’ve never seen there before & one that I have never known. She is preparing herself for a bridegroom.

And for just a moment we were little girls in the basement of a tiny ranch style home in Omaha Nebraska, swimming in wedding dresses bought at different estate sales. White gloves pushed up nearly to our arm pits, heels the size only a giant could wear, twirling before a cracked mirror & dreaming of something we couldn’t possibly understand. Memories grow fuzzy through the trials of each day that pass, and I’ve so committed myself to living out each day that the lines have blurred, but just for a moment I could see us.

Today is Tuesday April 26 2011 & it is Kat’s 27th birthday. We have lived together for 22 of those years & shared a room for 20 of them. Some times I took it for granted, some times I fought to remember what a gift it was to be so near to my sister. Never did I imagine that it could change for more than the few months that we lived apart in different seasons. Never could I have seen this week.

Thursday is Kat’s wedding day & I just can’t fathom where the years have gone, or how she went from that tiny little girl in a giant antique wedding gown to the gorgeous woman that she is today, waiting to wear the dress that hangs in my closet. I’m so thankful to have lived these years as her little sister, her fighter, and her friend. Thursday everything changes, even her name. As of Thursday she will never be my roommate again, and my current adventure will become a little more stark, a little more real.

Dear Sister, it has been my honor to serve you these years. To bring you icepacks & medicine through your constant headaches, to hold your hair as you puked through countless migraines, to listen while you cried, to fight for your beauty, to fight for your heart, to make you laugh and hold your hand when you didn’t have words & neither did I. It has been my joy to be your friend, to listen to music far too loud, sing songs for years that bring you smiles, to order your food so you don’t have to talk to strangers, to pump your gas in the winter & shovel the sidewalk because you hate the cold, to mow the lawn & plant you flowers & come to visit you at work. I have been your champion as best I could until Thursday. And it will be my honor on that day to give your hand to the champion that your Father has prepared for you.

Oh these moments when the lines become clear, so painful and yet drastically beautiful.

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